


Want You Back

by yourinternetkid



Series: from afar [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Coffee date, Crush, F/M, Fluff, Infatuation, Kinda, No Smut, Pining, Unrequited Love, general cuteness, honestly someone stop me, inspired by want you back, just me being self indulgent again, lots of mushy feelings, more like unrequited like, party date, requited like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:02:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15148769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourinternetkid/pseuds/yourinternetkid
Summary: “I thought of you every time it rained."In which Y/N is infatuated with Ashton, and at first it seems like it's going nowhere, until it starts going somewhere.





	Want You Back

'youngblood' is amazing, let's celebrate.

wrote this while listening to this cover of 'want you back': <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5vYZ6RSKRO4>   
it fits the overall sweet vibe i was going for with this fic- listen along if you feel so inclined. might do more with this later, idk. we'll see.

enjoy!

* * *

 

It was that lovely smell. You couldn’t help but find comfort in it- that smell of fresh water that rose up from the road. It really manifested itself on rainy days, when the sky turned delightfully dappled and gray and the pavement shined so it reflected the sky. You would crack your car windows open on day like that so that the smell would creep its way in and fill the entire vehicle till you were buzzing with every inhale. It was fresh, the smell of something being washed clean, made like new. There was something comforting and simultaneously invigorating about it.

That summer evening you were out taking a walk. It’d been months since the last rain- California summers were always so long and so dry that you almost forgot what it was like to experience any weather other than _hot_. You can still remember walking with your head down, watching the pavement pass by underneath you when that beautiful smell caught your attention.

A boy stood outside, washing his car. Or, he wasn’t a boy. He was a man. A man stood outside, hosing suds off the side of his car and spraying at his tires. Water sped down the sidewalk towards the gutter and left a trail of something rainy behind it. You slowed down your steps, took your time walking by, wanting to savour the moment, remember the precious days of weather that you so craved in the winter time. You wanted the rain back, ached for it.

Ashton was the sunniest person you’d ever met. Curly hair and smiley disposition, he was full of hopes and dreams and you were quick to be infatuated. Stupidly infatuated, because you’d only really known him for a few weeks, and because he was leaving that summer for work. He wouldn’t be back for months. You hoped the time apart would allow your heart to settle into something more platonic, more realistic. You hoped he would miss you just as much as you would miss him.

“Can we go out for coffee before you leave?” you asked him. “I know you’re busy.” You were afraid of being a bother.

“Sure,” he’d answered, smile on his face just like always. “I’m free Sunday morning.”

“Great!” And it was. Sunday morning you met at Eric’s. It was already starting to get too hot outside, but you sat out by the street anyway. Traffic was slow, free of the usual commuters, and the morning sun was too tempting.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving- in what? A week?”

“Ten days,” Ashton said. “Ten more days and we’ll be gone for four months.”

“Wow,” you didn’t know what to say. “Are you ready?”

“Hell no,” he laughed. “I never feel ready to be gone for that long. I’m excited to be playing shows again, but I’m going to miss my houseplants.” He let out a sigh, “And my bed.”

“I can imagine.”

“What’ll you be doing while we’re gone? Working on any major projects or anything?”

“Nah, just everyday things.” You played with the condensation on the side of your coffee cup. “In all honesty, I’m just trying to slow things down. It feels like I’ve been living at a hundred miles per hour, and it’s slowly killing me.”

“Yeah? In what way?” He leaned over the table closer to you. His eyes were genuine, and you didn’t think your poor heart could handle his kindness for much longer before you did something stupid like ask him out, or kiss his cheek.

“I used to notice things,” you said. “I used to love the world around me. But lately I’ve been dead to it. I need to wake up. I want to get back to being alive.”

Ashton smiled, “What do you notice now?”

You leaned back in your chair and looked around. The sun had just moved passed that magic morning hour where everything looks just a little bit gold. Daylight was truly upon you now. Down the street a dog was tied to a bike rack outside a donut shop, and a woman in a red sweater stood talking on the phone, pacing back and forth.

“The light’s changing, people are starting to wake up,” you said, and looked to Ashton. “You’ve left your hair all curly, and your rings at home.”

Ashton looked just over your shoulder. “There’s a man riding a bike towards us,” he said, apparently playing this strange little game too. “He’s got a basket on the front of it.” The bike passed by in a whir, and you felt something wet splatter up your ankles. “Oh god, and something’s leaking.” You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching down to wipe whatever it was away.

“It’s alright, I think it’s just water,” you said, and then, “that smell. I love that smell.”

“What smell?”

“Water on pavement. It smells like winter.”

Ashton inhaled. “Yeah, I suppose it does.” He took a sip of his coffee. “What are you going to do with all these things you’re noticing?”

“Enjoy them, I guess,” you said. “Maybe one of them will inspire me somehow, or something. I don’t know. I just think it’s good for me to pay attention.”

“I like that.”

“Thanks, me too. That’s why I said it.”

Ashton rolled his eyes at you, and you grinned. Over the course of your conversation your chest started to feel more and more full. You were taking Ashton in, his words and laugh and the way his fingers twitched against the table every so often. His t shirt and tattoos and his excitement for the future. You were stupid with it, so stupid that you felt invincible. You could do anything, say anything.

“I know this is probably lame,” you prefaced, “but I’m going to miss you while you’re gone.”

And, oh shit. Because even though you could do anything, could say anything, you definitely shouldn’t have said that.

“Sorry,” you backtracked, “I’m not trying to be weird or anything, I know that was kind of out of the blue.”

“No,” Ashton said, “It’s okay. Even though I talk a lot of game about how much I love tour, I always miss home and all the people here. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. Because he never said it back. You weren’t someone special, you were a part of this place. Of Los Angeles. Which was terrible, because Ashton was a brilliant shining person to you. He could never fade into the background, and yet that’s all you were to him.

“Well,” you had to salvage your pride, “I should let you get going. I’m sure you’re busy.” You pulled your coffee cup towards you. It was just melted ice, and you watched it swirl around the bottom. “Thanks for waking up on a Sunday morning to chat.”

“My pleasure,” Ashton smiled, and moved to get up from the table. “I’ll see you around sometime. There’ll probably be some kind of party when we all get back from tour. You better be there.”

“I will be,” you said, but you weren’t so sure. “See you, Ash. Good luck.”

“See you,” he said, and reached over to squeeze your shoulder before heading towards the parking lot behind the coffee shop. You turned to walk towards the little place you were staying. It was only a short walk away, and you used every step to run the conversation over and over again in your mind.

He was just so damn  _nice_. For a while there, you could pretend he really liked you. Like,  _like_ liked you. God, what were you? In middle school? You had just turned onto your street when you realized you’d never thrown away your coffee cup. It hung from your hand, the water sloshing back and forth as you walked.

You stopped and poured the rest of it out onto the pavement, crouching down and letting that faint, familiar smell ease your mind.

Your heart ached, and you knew it was stupid. You wished things were different.

That summer lasted well into fall, and before you knew it it was almost Thanksgiving and still stupidly warm outside. You longed for a change in weather, but you couldn’t deny that the sunshine was lovely for the little garden you’d planted in your tiny backyard. You were examining your strawberries when you got the mass text on your phone.

**_Your boiz are back. Friday night. Roy’s place. Costume party, bring extra booze._ **

An address was attached along with other details. You sat back on your heels and stared at the text. You weren’t sure it was such a good idea to go. Despite the months apart, you’d done a pretty terrible job of forgetting Ashton Irwin. You’d even gone so far as to avoid all social media in the hopes of not having to see his face, but that did little to erase your memories of him. Worse still, you’d run into a few of his past girlfriends and interests through mutual friends in the past few months, and you couldn’t help but compare yourself to them. You weren’t sure you could go to this party without coming out unscathed. You let the text sit on your phone for the next few days, worrying over it late at night when you couldn’t sleep.

Friday rolled around. You sat in an Uber outside of the address, adjusting your top and double checking that your mascara hadn’t already migrated anywhere else on your face. Maybe this was stupid, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to see him again.

“Thanks for the ride,” you smiled at your driver and let yourself out. You were a few minutes late (traffic was a bitch) but you didn’t think anyone would care. You walked up to the front door and let yourself in.

“Hey, Roy.” You smiled at the host as soon as you spotted him, and chatted over a drink with one of his friends while he kept hugging people at the front door. You’d spotted Ashton almost as soon as you walked in, but you kept to yourself. You felt like some kind of wounded animal, caught between a fight or flight response. In the end you settled for avoiding him altogether, and looking away quickly whenever your eyes happened to fall upon him.

“Y/N!” You couldn’t avoid him forever. “How’s it going?” Ashton asked as he pulled you into a side hug reminiscent of the type you’d received from confused teenage boys back in your high school youth group.

“Ashton!” You cheered back at him. “I’m good, how are you?”

“Great! A little tipsy, but great,” he said and took a swig of beer.

You asked him about tour, he asked you about work. You asked about his music and his eyes lit up, and you complemented the band’s newest album again, because despite your wounded heart, you’d still continued to listen to it (it was damn good, okay?) Ashton beamed at your praise, and laid a hand over his heart.

“Thank you, really. I’m still amazed by all the positivity surrounding the new stuff. It’s been really good. Refreshing.”

“I’m glad,” you smiled. Over the course of the conversation the two of you had drifted closer to together and farther away from the main jumble of people. You held onto the moment tightly- it was only a matter of time before Ashton got pulled back into the thick of things. This party was for him after all.

“Hey,” Ashton leaned closer to you, the smell of beer heavy on his breath, “it’s supposed to rain tonight.”

“Really?” you asked, and looked out the nearest window. It was too dark to see anything, but you could just imagine that wonderful sound of rain and the shine of the drops against the glass.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s check out back. See if it’s started.”

“Both of us? But this is your party, don’t you want to, like, mingle or something?”

Perhaps Ashton didn’t hear you, or just ignored you, because suddenly there was just warmth pressed against your side, and Ashton was ushering you towards the back door. He slid the glass pane open and let you through first. As soon as you stepped onto the back patio, you could smell it. Ashton was right. It was raining.

“Shit,” you whispered into the night air. It’s cool weight felt amazing against your skin after being in a room packed with people. A couple of people sat smoking cigarettes a few feet away, and Ashton smiled and waved at them as he sidled up to your side.

“You were right,” you told him and watched as the rain skittered across the pavement. Here, under the shelter of the overhang, you could see fat droplets fall from the roof and splash against the ground that had turned warm and yellow with the reflection of the outdoor lights. The two of you stood and watch and listened for a while, breathing in the smell of fresh rain and cigarette smoke.

“I thought of you every time it rained,” Ashton said after a while. The two smokers had long since left, the butts of their cigarettes abandoned in an ashtray.

“Really?” you asked, the terrible, wonderful, powerful hope blossoming against your will, pressing up against your ribs, demanding to be recognized.

“Yeah,” Ashton said. “I really liked what you said that day we went out for coffee- before I left- about noticing things.” He set his beer down on the ground. “You noticed the smell of water on the sidewalk. Said it reminded you of rain. It just stuck with me for some reason.”

“That’s-” you scratched at your arm, still staring out at the rain, “I feel kind of special. ‘Cause you remembered that. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The rain kept coming down. You were pleasantly surprised at how long it’d lasted, especially for a November rain in Los Angeles. Traffic must’ve been awful, and the outdoor restaurants must’ve been furious, and tourists were probably disappointed, but you were so undeniably happy. A dreamy sigh escaped your lips.

“I love the rain.”

“Me too,” Ashton agreed. “You’ve given me a new appreciation for it.”

You turned to look up at him only to find that he was looking at you too. You both smiled, soft and private. The sound of the party could still be heard through the sliding glass doors, but the sound of the rain was stronger out here.

“I’m glad you checked the weather,” you whispered into the space between you. Ashton nodded.

“Me too.” He looked back out into the rain. “Hey,” he started- soft and unsure.

“Yeah?”

“I missed you.” There were those eyes again, lit up by the light from the house and so genuine, your heart bloomed.

“I missed you too.”

“I- I should’ve called you. Or texted.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I read all your posts and stuff. And I just- I’m sorry I didn’t reach out, or anything. It was just- it felt silly. But I know it’s not. I don’t know.” You could hear him turn to face you, his bottom of his boots scraping across the ground and his shirt rustling.

“What are you doing this Sunday?” he asked. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Going to coffee with you. Probably in the morning, but I don’t want to be too presumptuous.”

“No, that’s perfect.” Ashton grinned.

You knew you’d have to go back into the house soon. Ashton had people waiting to say hello after months apart, you weren’t the only one. You wondered if Ashton had missed all of them the way he missed you. You wondered if he was starting to feel whatever you were feeling.

Before you went back inside Ashton wrapped his hand around yours and gave it a squeeze. You squeezed back, and Ashton smiled down at you.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to comment/leave kudos.  
> (what's your favorite song on 'youngblood'? do you want more of this? is ashton irwin the cutest? (hell yeah he is))


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